


that’s not a skirt, girl, that’s a sawn-off shotgun

by nykteris



Series: a study in romances [1]
Category: Mamamoo
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nykteris/pseuds/nykteris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are each other’s antithesis; they are like day and night, like sun and moon. Yongsun is appalled with the irony of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that’s not a skirt, girl, that’s a sawn-off shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first shot at writing moonsun so i hope i did alright but the challenge of writing for a ship i've never written before and not quite as familiar with (dynamics-wise) was really fun! written for nikki, because it's damn time i wrote you some moonsun (and hopefully YOU write some moonsun yourself).
> 
> title is from 'suck it and see' by arctic monkeys.

Yongsun can’t stand her. In fact, she wonders how _anyone_ can tolerate her, given her horrendous behavior, never acting her age.

The ‘her’ in question is none other than Moon Byulyi -- or as she liked to go by, _Moonbyul_ \-- and it’s rather unfortunate that she has to spend so much time around her, all because both of their fathers are in politics and were pretty chummy with one another. The same can’t be said for their daughters, obviously.

Yongsun at least knows how to act like how a daughter of a politician should act. She’s grown up surrounded by other men and women like her father, and if they were right, she would be following his footsteps and would venture into politics too. She has charisma and a winning smile and already she is the public’s darling.

As for Moonbyul? She has expensive tastes and a bad habit of squandering so much money -- her _father’s_ money, obviously -- always making headlines on the news and tabloids for renting out whole clubs for the night and for her equally expensive taste in pretty girls. As for politics, she didn’t give a damn about it. She piques the public’s interest but for all the wrong (or at least that’s how Yongsun views them: _wrong_ ) reasons.

They are each other’s antithesis; they are like day and night, like sun and moon. Yongsun is appalled with the irony of it all.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


It’s campaign season, otherwise known as hell. But Yongsun is used to this, used to smiling and looking pretty for the cameras practically being shoved at her face left and right. It’s not that she particularly likes it (okay, maybe just a _little_ ), but it’s something that she’s used to and she’s well-rehearsed in what to do and say to win voters for her father and to keep the existing supporters.

Her father is running for Senate, and Yongsun intends to help him win in every way she possibly can.

The same can’t be said for Moonbyul, who goes about her usual routine of acting like Seoul’s favorite playgirl, bottles of magnum piling as sky high as her bills every night. Admittedly, it _does_ bring a lot of attention to her father, horrible image and publicity aside. His name is everywhere ( _just like his daugher_ , Yongsun thinks sardonically). That’s about as much credit as she’s willing to give Moonbyul.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


It’s Yongsun’s luck that she finds out on the day itself that Moonbyul will be appearing on the same news talk show as her and at the same time. But Yongsun is a professional, so when she takes her seat beside Moonbyul during the commercial break, she flashes her a bright enough smile and says, “I’m glad you’re finally taking interest in your father’s affairs.” If there had been a hint of sarcasm in her voice, Moonbyul doesn’t pick up on it.

Moonbyul smiles lopsidedly in response, a lazy and easy smile, and Yongsun feels her heart twist. Or, no: it feels like someone’s stuck a knife into her heart and just twisted it. “Well, my old man says unless I actually do something right once in a blue moon” -- she chuckles at the unintentional pun -- “he’s revoking any and all privileges.”

Yongsun stops herself from saying _well it took him long enough_. Instead, she answers, “This is a very important time for him, so of course he’d want you to actively be part of it all.”

Moonbyul locks Yongsun under her gaze, unnerving Yongsun. There’s a touch of amusement in her eyes and Yongsun has no idea what to make of it. She’s grateful for when the hosts finally take their seats opposite her and Moonbyul, exchanging pleasantries and small talk. One of the staff members calls out, “We’ll be back on air in two minutes!”

Moonbyul turns to Yongsun right before the cameras start rolling again, leaning her head closer to Yongsun’s, and whispers, “To be honest, I only agreed to appear on this show because I knew you’d be here.”

Yongsun swallows down the lump in her throat and forces her lips back into a smile for the cameras and the audience.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Hours after the recording is finished and they’ve parted ways, Moonbyul’s words still ring in Yongsun’s ears.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Yongsun finds it irritating how her ears pick up the mention of Moonbyul’s name so easily now, or how her eyes always manage to catch the newspaper headlines that are about Moonbyul. What’s more irritating is her sudden interest in all of them, in _Moonbyul_ and her lavish lifestyle and which pretty girl she has on her arm this week and who the media thinks is the next.

Yongsun tells herself she does it just because she likes to hate-read, because she likes having something to make comments about. She also tells herself she doesn’t feel jealousy gnawing at her heart when she sees pictures of Moonbyul with some girl on her lap, Moonbyul’s words still reverberating in her brain.

No, she’s Kim Yongsun and she can’t stand Moon Byulyi. Now if she could just put down this damn newspaper and stop reading this article about Moonbyul.

  
  


-

  
  
  


“You know,” Wheein says, taking a sip of her iced tea, “You complain about Moonbyul literally all the time now.”

Yongsun frowns. “I do not complain about her all the time. Stop exaggerating.”

Hwasa raises a brow at her and Wheein rolls her eyes. It’s times like this that Yongsun hates them the most. “Oh please,” Wheein mumbles. “All you ever do is complain about how ‘unsavory’ her demeanor is and how horrible her public image is.”

Yongsun huffs indignantly. “I wouldn’t be complaining so much about her -- and mind you, I do _not_ complain about her _that_ much -- if there wasn’t so much to complain about in the first place.”

“All that this proves is that you pay a lot of attention to her, a lot more than you’d like to admit,” Hwasa says, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Wheein wiggles her eyebrows at Yongsun, an equally irritating smirk plastered on her face.

“In fact,” Wheein chimes in, “You _have_ been talking _so much_ about her lately. I wonder why.”

Yongsun glares daggers at Hwasa and Wheein, but her face is flushed beet red.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Yongsun’s seen this happen loads of times in movies and on TV, mostly romantic comedies both of the good and bad kind, but what she never really expected was that she’d be stuck in an elevator (all while in her dress that cost an arm and a leg and air freight charges) with Moonbyul. Like something out of a goddamn romantic comedy. Well, then.

This is how she and Moonbyul get stuck in an elevator together: Yongsun had arrived to the hotel a little after her parents, impatiently pressing the ‘up’ button to the elevator. The dinner was being held at the rooftop of the hotel, which was over thirty floors up above. Yongsun was seriously contemplating on running up the stairs in her five-inch heels but luckily before she could make up her mind, the elevator doors opened and she thankfully rushed in. Before they could close and before the elevator could be on its way up, Moonbyul had come running into the elevator, panting. Grinning from ear to ear (there goes that weird twisting in Yongsun’s heart again), Moonbyul says, “Hey there, Yongsun. You look fantastic!” Yongsun had blushed, muttering, “Nice to see you too, Moonbyul” and keeping to herself for the rest of the ascent, until the elevator comes to a screeching halt, the lights go off and before they know it they’re stuck in an elevator together. Fun.

There’s no signal for whatever reason and it’s hot as balls inside the elevator and the more Yongsun stares at the four walls that surround and enclose them, the more the walls seem to be caving in on them, making the space even smaller. _Fun_.

Moonbyul plops down right beside her, grumbling curses at her phone under her breath. She had been pacing the small space for over ten minutes now, trying to call for help. Lips turned down in a scowl, she defeatedly says to Yongsun, “I guess we’re stuck here until someone finds us.”

Yongsun doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry but whatever noise escapes her mouth sounds like a mix of both.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


“Hey, wanna play twenty questions?”

“For the third time, Moonbyul: _no_.”

“Why not?”

“I’m thirsting to death right now, we’ve been stuck in here forever and I’d rather not waste my saliva on _twenty questions_.”

“Yongsun, it’s only been thirty minutes.”

Yongsun huffs.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


A bead of sweat trickles down Yongsun’s forehead and she wipes it away with the back of her hand. The heat is giving her a headache, one that she feels pounding at her head and she feels the pain all the way to the back of her eyes. All she can think about is drinking an entire ocean’s worth of water the moment she gets out of this godforsaken elevator but it’s been over an hour now and there hasn’t been a sign that anyone would ever come and save them.

“God, what a horrible way to die,” Yongsun groans under her breath. “In an _elevator_ of all places.”

Moonbyul frowns, but her lips curl into a small smile. “Don’t be dramatic, Yong” -- Yongsun’s eye twitches at the sound of the nickname -- “We aren’t gonna die in here.”

Yongsun sighs. “What makes you so sure?”

“I’m pretty sure they’ve noticed by now that one of the elevators isn’t working. They can’t ignore this forever.”

“Or they _can_ and we’ll end up dying in here.”

“Who knew you had a sense of humor, huh? Morbid, but entertaining nonetheless.”

Yongsun shoots a glare at Moonbyul but it’s half-assed and the aching she feels in her eyes makes it difficult to focus on being annoyed at the girl beside her. She suddenly becomes aware of how they are sitting shoulder to shoulder, arms pressed against one another, and aware of how there’s only very little space between their faces. She gulps and looks away. “I just want water,” she mumbles. “And food. And airconditioning.”

Moonbyul is quiet for a moment before she says “Ah, how could I have forgotten!” delightedly and rummages through her purse for two lollipops. She beams at Yongsun and hands her the lollipop; Yongsun looks at the candy and asks, “So do you go around carrying lollipops wherever you go or did God hear my pleas and magically make these appear in your purse?”

“No, silly.” Moonbyul laughs and the corner of Yongsun’s lips twitch up into a small smile. “I have a sweet tooth, so I like to carry chocolates or candy around most of the time. I don’t have water or an airconditioner with me, and I have no idea how I’m gonna fit either of those in this small ass purse, but I _do_ have food.”

Yongsun takes off the wrapper from the lollipop and sticks it in her mouth, grateful for the burning sweetness in her mouth. “God bless you,” she drawls at Moonbyul.

Moonbyul places the lollipop in her mouth, smiling. “See, I’m not so bad.”

Yongsun feels her heart sink, guilty suddenly. “I never said you were.”

“You never had to,” Moonbyul replies, shrugging. “I could always see it in how you looked at me.”

Yongsun stares down at her hands, her lips pursed. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, come on. It’s no big deal, and I don’t take it personally.”

“Doesn’t make me feel less bad about it, though.”

Moonbyul lightly nudges her arm. “It’s fine, Yongsun. I get that look everyday from my mom and dad, so trust me when I say it’s no big deal. Hell, they always tell me I ought to be more like you, involved with family business and stuff.”

“They tell you that?” Yongsun asks, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, all the time,” Moonbyul replies, rolling her eyes and taking out the lollipop from her mouth with a pop. “It gets irritating sometimes, but I don’t really mind because at least it’s _you_ and not anyone else.”

“So you wouldn’t mind as long as it’s me?”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind.”

“And why not?”

“Because I like you.”

Yongsun hadn’t noticed that the they practically had their foreheads pressed together now, their lips only centimeters apart. The room -- or, well, the elevator -- falls silent, so silent that Yongsun can hear the pounding of her heart and Moonbyul’s. Her eyes flicker down to Moonbyul’s lips and instinctively, she leans in, closing the gap between the two of them. Moonbyul follows her lead, tilting her head to the side and her eyelids flutter shut. Yongsun feels her heart nearly rip out of her chest when their lips are just a hair’s breadth apart from touching.

Their noses brush and Yongsun pops the lollipop back in her mouth. Moonbyul frowns and opens her eyes, confused. “Frankly, Moonbyul,” Yongsun says, her eyes dancing playfully, “I’m starting to quite like you too.”

Moonbyul snickers. “Aren’t you going to give me that kiss, then?”

“Take me out to dinner first and maybe then I’ll give you that kiss.”

Moonbyul’s puts her own lollipop back in her mouth and says, “That’s a deal then, princess.”

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


They find Yongsun and Moonbyul a little over forty minutes later, slumped against one another and fast asleep with their lollipops still stuck in their mouths.

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are lovely and greatly appreciated!


End file.
